


Meddle About

by Arsoemon



Series: ShuKita 100 [30]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Porn With Plot, Self-Indulgent, Shameless Smut, Short One Shot, Shukita - Freeform, Smut, Top Kitagawa Yusuke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsoemon/pseuds/Arsoemon
Summary: We only met each other just the other dayBut you already got me feeling some type of wayNow if I could figure it outI'd take you back to my houseSo we could meddle about
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira, Kitagawa Yusuke/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: ShuKita 100 [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1485896
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	Meddle About

**Author's Note:**

> Title and Summary from “Meddle About” by Chase Atlantic

The neighbors can probably hear. The bed frame is quiet enough. The light shushing of the sheets shifting in Akira’s claw-like grasp is certainly not the issue. The relentless rhythm Yusuke has set for them results in a steady slapping that would only disturb the too-close discerning ear. The choked sighs and unfettered moans, unintelligible pleas and praises, the wet, open-mouthed kisses landing anywhere within reach; the sudden shift in the mattress as a hand is pinned to it, the blissful cries of “Yusuke” that hand once muffled. These things they can surely hear. And that seems to only further motivate him.

They met by chance. Akira had the day off and a ticket to an art gallery opening he won in a raffle. He was never overly invested in paintings or sculptures, but he could appreciate art—and free tickets.

A man whose name he vaguely recognized was displaying new works he and his students had been working on. Akira casually browsed the students’ works. For as little as he knew about the finer points, he could tell the techniques weren’t those of amateurs, and the works themselves were nice to look at. He made his way to the larger room further back, the space designated for the name he’s heard somewhere before. And at a single glance beyond the crowd, it was clear these were the works of the master.

And what a master he is. Tall and lean, hair resting just so over his left shoulder, a serene confidence lighting up those sultry eyes as he addressed the tight circle of patrons surrounding him. Akira could’ve spent all day staring but realized he was blocking the walkway and moved.

Akira had no idea that same calm, well-mannered artist was capable of this. Nothing tender about this encounter. The cold eyes staring down at him are those of someone seconds away from choking him out. Akira lets out a particularly lewd moan at the thought. They set no rules beforehand and yet Akira feels compelled to beg for permission to take his pleasure, an act in and of itself that just might push him beyond the limits of sanity.

He’d been standing in the same spot for quite some time, completely in awe of the painting in front of him. Each piece in this series is different from the others, and yet there’s no question they’re of the same hand. The more paintings he sees, the more the title makes sense. Akira can’t quite put his finger on it, but something about this one makes him feel....

“What are your thoughts?” Came a deep, gentle voice from his right.

“Tell me you like it,” that same deep voice comes from above him. Only it’s not the same. This one is sharp, demanding, already sure of the answer. Akira can only nod, his best efforts at speech not enough to form actual words. But the artist isn’t satisfied. The voice demands an answer once more, a bite to the collarbone acting as both warning and reward. Akira tries to confirm, the “I” he manages to utter immediately dissolving into a loud, shameless moan he can’t seem to suppress. The artist laughs. A deep, mischievous rumble that sends fire straight through Akira’s insides.

He’d had him going at first. Asking him to pose for him. “If I may speak candidly, your features are striking. Far more inspiring than any I’ve seen in quite some time. Divine,“ his eyes seemed to shift a bit, and Akira’s insides began to melt. That feeling he got from the painting that brought them together had returned, and his palms began to sweat as he realized just what said feeling was. “However, I am not one to mix business and pleasure,” he’d said. “Which might you prefer to be?”

Akira chokes on a gasp as Yusuke presses the legs draped over his shoulders closer to the mattress, a means of getting even deeper. Yusuke’s smirk is maddening, dangerous as he watches Akira squirm beneath him, feels him claw at his shoulders, his chest press flush against his own as his back arches off the mattress. He’s found it, and Akira can tell from Yusuke’s face, the way he braces himself over him that he won’t stop until Akira completely falls apart.

And he’s right. Yusuke bores into him with deadly precision, hitting his prostate with every thrust. Akira’s back arches dangerously, his shoulders just barely grazing the bed. He’s pressed so firmly against Yusuke he can feel the artist’s torso working his length. Akira goes through the full range of his voice, an incoherent plea to a man who never even denied him pleasure.

Yusuke doesn’t speak a word. He gives a single long groan before capturing Akira’s lips with his own. Their minds go blank as they cling desperately to each other, their bodies convulsing and contorting together, their shared release sending them to another realm.


End file.
